Walking on thin ice
by E.A Grace
Summary: Once upon a time, she danced on ice. She raced, she jumped, she spun, she twirled. Now she walks.


Once upon a time, she danced on ice. She raced, she jumped, she spun, she twirled.

Now she walks, only walks. Walking on ice is dangerous. Walking on thin ice is deadly. On thin ice, you must be calm and careful. She is careful. She is apathetic enough to seem calm. She walks on thin ice.

She walks across the frozen pond on the way to her house. Once upon a time, she loved that pond in the winter. She loved how clear, almost see through the ice was. She loved how the sun kissed the snow that gathered at the edges. She loved the evergreens that towered over her, not at all deterred by frigid days or the gales or even the storms that lingered for days. Once upon a time, the pond was her kingdom. Her subjects were the animals that dared not to hibernate through the winter months and the creatures she made in the snow. Her reign began at the first snowfall and ended by the return of the monarchs. She was the Snow Queen.

Now she walks alone through the ice, the thin thin ice. She doesn't notice the calls of her favorite birds. She doesn't take delight in the flurries of snow. She stares at her feet and tries to forget.

Then she spots another pair of snow boots. She doesn't look up. She doesn't meet the glance of the other one who walks on thin ice.

He walks to forget too. Walking on thin ice is deadly. He knows this all too well. Maybe he wants to die.

They walk on thin ice. The same plane of existence between dead and alive. They walk on thin ice, daring it to crack beneath their feet, daring it to take them.

When her feet meet snow at last, the other pair of shoes are gone.

She takes her time walking to the door. The house is empty and cold and sad. She locks the door behind her. She silently makes it to her room. Another locked door.

She walks on thin ice.

There are knocks. Always knocks. She has to ignore them.

She walks on thin ice. She almost wants to fall.

"Elsa, please," The plead plagues her, "Talk to me."

She walks on thin ice. There is no way out. When she looks at her, she sees falling and failing and near death. She walked on thin ice. She fell. It was Elsa's fault. Now she can't bear to look at the girl she almost killed.

She walks on thin ice. Talking to her would kill her. Not talking to her kills her too.

She studies. Her grades are impeccable.

She works. Her salary sustains them.

The next time she walks on ice she cries. Her tears are frost. She wails. Her cries are gales.

She shakes. She missteps.

And suddenly, she's no longer walking on thin ice. She's falling through thin ice.

The cold never bothered her, but the icy water. It's so cold it's hot. She can't feel anything.

She can't feel anything. She doesn't scream for help. She doesn't panic.

She is frozen.

And then a hand is pulling her out of death's grasp. She is frozen.

When she wakes up, she doesn't know where she is. Soft blanket cover her body. She feels hot. Like there's a fire in her body trying to get out. She attempts moving her arm, her hand, her fingers. She pulls of the covers. She is choking. She is burning. She takes off the blankets with effort.

"Don't do that," an unfamiliar voice calls.

She's surprised enough to stop. Her eyes fall to the floor and she recognizes a pair of old brown snow boots.

"You have hypothermia. You're freezing. You might feel hot, but your freezing" the voice explains.

She is tired. Exhausted.

He tucks her back in the mountain of blankets.

When she wakes again she is no longer shivering. The fire in the little room roars. It cackles nicely. There is a figure tending the flames.

With less effort this time, she removes the blankets from over her.

She wraps a thick one around her and walks silently toward the figure by the fire.

She is a ghost. He doesn't notice her until she is right at his side.

They sit there by the fire silently.

She cannot go back to her house. She would freeze again for sure.

She falls asleep by the fire and he carries her back to his cozy bed.

Sound asleep, she knows no dream.

Restless, he lives in nightmares. In the Pitch Black world of fear and loneliness and mourning.

She wakes up to screams. By instinct she gets up to soothe the screamer. (Anna used to have nightmares. She used to chase them away. Once upon a time.)

His screams are terrifying. He walks on ice. On the thin line between alive and dead. The thin line between all together and torn to pieces.

She drags him to the bed and sings him a song.

They drift to peaceful silence in the little bed in the little cottage by the expansive frozen lake.

It takes time but she starts to warm up. Her skin is not cold to the touch after the second day. She talks to him by the second day. Her temperature is up to 98° by the third day. She shares her stories with him by the third day.

He takes her home on the fourth day. His name is Jack Frost and he walks on thin ice. His sister died falling through cracks and he sees it every day. He nearly died too, but a hospital saved his body. Another hospital tried to save his mind. They let him go after a few years of therapy. He'd gotten out of fhe frigid water but he was still walking on ice. That was enough for them. He had a job now. Enough money to pay for the food he needed. He couldn't return to school. He had cottage by the lake. His family left him there. He doesn't have a family.

Her sister is relieved. Her sister is angry. Her sister is relieved.

They talk for the first time in forever.

She walks on thin ice but she's trying to learn how to dance again. How to leap in the cold air and spin like a fan. He's learning too. Learning how to enjoy the Frost on his face. Learning to fight the Pitch Black nightmares. Learning to have fun again.

Holding hands they leave the days of walking on thin ice.


End file.
